Orchid (34 page)

Apparently sensing the impending danger, the gunman abandoned his post. Rafe heard the rush of pounding footsteps in the distance. The man was plunging through the trees toward the road.

“Shit.”

The bastard was going to get away.

Rafe broke into a charging run.

He heard the slam of a car door and knew that he was too late. An instant later came the whine of an engine. It was followed by the squeal of tires on pavement.

Rafe reached the edge of the road in time to see the tail of a white Phase 1000 disappear around the curve in the highway.

There were, he reflected, a lot of Phases in the world.

“Are you certain it wasn't some stupid hunter who thought you were a moose-deer?” Orchid asked for the third time as she refastened her seatbelt.

“Positive.” Rafe started the Icer and backed out of the trees toward the highway. “Whoever he was, he must have been following us since we left your folks' house.”

“He couldn't have known that we would stop here.”

“No, but when he saw us pull off the road he probably figured he had a golden opportunity.”

“To kill you? But who would want to do that? Dr. Austen was the only killer we've come across recently and he's dead.”

“There's still the little matter of the missing relic,” Rafe pointed out.

“But we don't know where it is.”

“Someone may be worried that we're still searching for it.”

She mulled that over for a moment. “I don't know. Even if we assume that there is someone else involved in this thing besides Austen, why would he or she consider you a threat? With Austen's death, the trail has gone cold.”

“Not quite.” Rafe glanced over his shoulder and then pulled out onto the highway. “Just before that guy took a shot at me, I had what you might call a small epiphany.”

“An epiphany? While using the facilities?”

“While taking a leak against a tree, to be precise.”

She grimaced. “What is it with men and trees, anyway?”

“It's a guy thing. You wouldn't understand. As I was saying, I suddenly recalled something we saw the night we went through Austen's office.”

“What?”

“On the back of Theo Willis's chart there was a small sticky note, remember?”

“Sure. You said it looked as if the receptionist had jotted it down to remind herself to send a thank-you note for the referral.”

“I think,” Rafe said, “that it would be very interesting to find out who referred Theo Willis to Dr. Austen.”

“Maybe,” she said slowly.

“You sound unconvinced.”

“I hate to say this, but I think you're reaching a bit here. We have nothing to indicate that there was anyone else besides Quentin Austen involved with the missing relic. But we can say, with some certainty, that there are a couple of other people who might take a potshot at you if they got the chance.”

He raised his brows. “Such as?”

“Your cousin Selby.”

Rafe looked briefly intrigued. “I hadn't thought of that.”

“He's got a lot to lose if you take over Stonebraker Shipping.”

“When, not if.”

“I beg your pardon.
When
you take over Stonebraker. And there's someone else you have recently pissed-off, too, don't forget.”

He frowned. “Who?”

“Preston Luce.”

“Luce? Five hells, I cut off his funding, not his balls.”

“With Preston, it probably amounts to the same thing. Grant funding is his raison d'être. Obtaining money for research projects is what he does. It's what gives him clout at the institute. If he can no longer play rainmaker, he won't last long. As a pure research analyst, he's a bust.”

“I see what you mean.”

“Let's face it Rafe. When you get right down to it, you are not the most popular man in the city-state.”

“Okay by me,” he said cheerfully. “I don't care what everyone else thinks as long as you'll still sleep with me.”

Chapter
18
 

“Yes, Mom. We got back to the city yesterday at about two o'clock. We, uh, stopped for a bite along the way.” Carrying the phone in one hand, Orchid paced back and forth across the small living room. She had told her parents nothing about the incident on the highway. The information would only alarm them and there was nothing they could do about it. “Just wanted to let you know that everything's fine on this end.”

“The wedding was lovely, wasn't it?”

“Beautiful. Veronica and Terrence were meant for each other.”

“That,” Anna said meaningfully, “is just what their marriage counselors said.”

Orchid raised her eyes to the ceiling. “I know.”

“Still no word from your agency?”

“No.” Orchid suppressed a flash of guilt. She had not yet informed her parents that Affinity Associates had lost her file. She paused beside her desk, picked up a pen, and dutifully jotted herself a note.

Call Affinity Associates. Find out what happened to my file.

“I must say, your Mr. Stonebraker was very interesting.”

“Yes, he is that.”
Interesting.
Orchid winced. Rafe was a lot more than interesting.

She picked up the note she had just written to herself, crumpled it in her fist, and tossed it into the waste can.

“Mom, I know this is going to sound like a dumb question, but do you, by any chance, happen to know what kind of car Preston drives?”

“I'm not sure what type it is. I don't pay much attention to cars. But as I recall, it's white.”

White. Like a white Phase 1000? Orchid wondered. She sat down heavily in her chair. “Does Dad know?”

“I don't know. Why?”

“Oh, nothing. I just thought I saw Preston pass us on the highway on the way back to the city. I wondered if he had left Northville because of what happened between him and Rafe.”

“I don't know if he's still here or not. I'll ask your father when I see him later today. About Mr. Stonebraker—”

“I'm sorry, Mom. I've really got to run. Love you. ‘Bye.”

Orchid hung up the phone before her mother could continue the gentle cross-examination.

She sprawled in her chair and thought about the fact that Preston Luce's car was very likely white. White was an extremely common color in cars, especially in Northville, she reminded herself. It was so very meta-zen-syn.

The low, resonant bong of her front doorbell roused her from her state of intense brooding. On the off chance that it would be Rafe with news of his investigation into the white car and maybe some take-out pasta, she got to her feet.

When she reached the door she automatically started to open it. But the events of the previous few days had taken their toll. She paused long enough to peer through
the peephole. She stifled a small groan when she saw Briana Culverthorpe standing in the hallway.

Taking a deep breath, she pasted what she hoped was a pleasant smile on her face and opened the door. “Hello, Mrs. Culverthorpe. What brings you here?”

“I should have telephoned first.” Briana did not smile. “But I happened to be driving past your apartment and I thought I'd take a chance on your being home.”

“Why?”

“I'd like to speak with you.” Briana glanced past Orchid into the tiny entrance hall of the small apartment. “May I come in?”

“Yes, of course.” Orchid stepped back.

Briana was the same patrician woman Orchid had met briefly on the night of Alfred G. Stonebraker's birthday. Her pale hair framed her attractive face in two elegantly curved wings. The beautifully tailored suit she wore was a pale, pastel blue.

The only difference was that today there was an air of tension about her that did not suit the look of wealthy sophistication.

Orchid watched, amused as Briana glanced around the small living room with ill-concealed curiosity. She took in the sight of the genuine yellow velvet covered Later Expansion period sofa and the assorted reproduction pieces in the same style. An air of faint disdain lit the cool blue eyes.

“We probably don't use the same interior designer,” Orchid said.

“No,” Briana sat down gingerly on the edge of the flamboyantly curved, high-backed sofa. She did not allow herself to sink into its depths. “I doubt that we do.”

“Coff-tea?”

“No, thank you. I won't be staying long. I shall come straight to the point, Miss Adams. My husband made you an offer a few days ago. I wish to know if you intend to accept it.”

Orchid saw the anxiety in Briana's eyes. She found
herself wanting to let the other woman down gently. But she could not think of any graceful way to refuse a bribe.

“No. I can't accept it.”

“I see.” Fine lines appeared at the corners of Briana's beautifully made-up mouth. “Perhaps Selby did not make the offer high enough.”

“Actually, he left it pretty open-ended. Told me I could just about name my own price. But there is no price, Mrs. Culverthorpe.”

Briana gave her a level look. “I trust you do realize that when this is all over, he won't marry you.”

“Who? Stonebraker?”

“He registered at a marriage agency a few weeks ago because he needed a creditable fiancée to parade in front of his grandfather and the Stonebraker board of directors. Given his, shall we say, unusual nature, there couldn't have been a lot of choice when it came to a match. I suspect he grabbed the first one he was offered.”

“Me?”

“Yes. I also suspect that, even if it's a genuine match, it's a very low-probability one. Take some advice, Miss Adams. If you're going along with it because you think it's worth the risk in order to marry into Stonebraker Shipping, don't be fooled.”

“Fooled?”

“Don't make the mistake of believing that Rafe will actually go through with the marriage just because it's an agency-arranged match.”

“I already got this lecture from your husband.”

“My husband was right. Rafe is not interested in marriage at this point.” Briana stood up abruptly and walked to the window. “All he cares about is seizing control of Stonebraker. He will do anything to achieve his goal. It's his nature. But when he has what he wants, he will no longer need you.”

“Mrs. Culverthorpe—”

“Eventually, of course, he will marry. But when he
does choose a wife, he will do it the same way he does everything else, with an eye toward how well she suits his purposes.”

“You don't think I'll suit his purposes?”

“No, I do not. Even if the marriage agency that put the two of you together is convinced that you were a reasonably good match in syn-psych terms, I doubt that they understand the rest of it.”

“What do you mean?”

“The agency probably didn't take into account the fact that people who come from a certain social strata frequently marry for reasons other than compatibility and mutual affection. They choose spouses for more pragmatic reasons.”

“Was your marriage based on those kinds of reasons?”

Briana shot her a glare that could have frozen lava. “As it happens, mine was an agency match. But the counselors were careful to ensure that social factors were considered along with the syn-psych aspects of the match.”

“I see.”

Briana turned back to the view of the street. “I will be blunt. I understand the people in the Stonebraker world infinitely better than you ever will. I can promise you that you will never fit into that world.”

“I'm pretty adaptable.”

Briana's spine stiffened. She did not turn around. “Let's be honest here. A woman like you is not likely to fit into the environment in which Rafe Stonebraker will move if he succeeds in getting control of Stonebraker Shipping.”

Orchid felt a ripple of tension go through her. “What do you know about my background?”

“My husband did some checking,” Briana said. “You were raised in Northville. I think that says it all.”

“Contrary to popular opinion, Northville has a great deal more in common with the real world than most people seem to believe.”

“I'm not disputing the importance of the North Institute or the people who staff it. But everyone knows it's an ivory tower filled with meta-zen-syn types. Anyone who grew up there would have little to offer Rafe Stonebraker.”

“What do you think Rafe will look for when he chooses a wife?”

Briana shrugged. “Someone who can bring him good business and social connections. A woman who will know how to entertain his friends and associates. A wife who moves in the right circles.”

“I was never very big on going around in circles.”

“Damn you.” Briana swung around. “Don't you understand? He's
using
you.”

“I beg your pardon, Mrs. Culverthorpe. I've known some real users, and Rafe is not one of them. I will admit he's single-minded and goal oriented, but he's not a user.”